


Obvious

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Rumors, Sibling Incest, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knows, and he tries to tell Dexter that everyone else knows, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> Commentfic [first posted here](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/667584.html?thread=88874432#t88874432)

“Everyone knows,” Harry said, perched on the edge of the desk. 

“No one knows anything,” Dexter said, watching his sister cross the room, disappear into the lieutenant’s office. 

“You don’t think that’s why LaGuerta is so hostile to her?”

“If LaGuerta knew she’d find a way to get us both off the force, if not thrown in jail. She’s hostile to Deb because she knows Deb’s smarter than her, that’s all.”

“What you and Debra do, Dexter, is not illegal. It’s wrong, but it’s not illegal. You know, when I drilled it into you to take care of your sister, to look out for her and protect her—“

“I know, Dad. You meant that I was supposed to protect her from myself. Obviously it didn’t quite work out that way.”

“Obviously.”

 

Deb turned, finding Dexter instantly in the crowd, and flashed him a grin and thumbs-up. _We fucking got him!_ Angel nudged her and she punched his shoulder, still grinning.

“Angel doesn’t know.”

“Maybe not,” Harry shrugged. “But Doakes definitely did.”

“What Doakes did or didn’t know about anything doesn’t exactly matter anymore.”

“Maybe not,” Harry said again.

 

“Quinn knows. And he likes it.”

“You’re thinking of Masuka,” Dexter said absently, scrawling his signature on a report. “Masuka thinks everyone’s fucking.”

“No, I’m talking about Quinn.” Harry’s voice was steel, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Dexter looked up. Across the bullpen, Debra was leaning with her hip braced on Joey Quinn’s desk, all animated gestures and a steady stream of swears as Quinn watched her. Hungry eyes, bared teeth, was that supposed to be a grin? “I’m talking about Quinn, and I don’t want him near my daughter.”

“Neither do I.” Dexter watched as Deb pushed away from his desk, still talking as she walked backwards, as she stuffed half a donut in her mouth, powdered sugar fingerprints on her gun.

“Gets me hot when you get jealous,” she tells him that night, her hair in his face. Crescent nail-bites freckle his shoulders, constellation bruises caress her wrists. He doesn’t ask how she knows.


End file.
